


Blood of our Enemies

by Dreaming_in_Circles



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Bond being adorable, Drabble, Gift Giving, M being confused, M/M, Q being silly, You should go look, a little cracky, based on art, but really adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/pseuds/Dreaming_in_Circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I brought you a gift." Bond said, voice mater-of-fact.<br/>Q frowned, incredulous, and twisted in his seat to look at Bond over his shoulder. The man held out his hand, and Q could see a thin, black stick of plastic. Upon closer inspection, the quartermaster could see there was dried blood on this device as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of our Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> So [bjodoodles](http://bjodoodles.tumblr.com/) on tumblr drew [ this](http://bjodoodles.tumblr.com/post/98287729043/bond-i-brought-you-a-gift-q-a-gift-bond-its/) picture and I couldn't resist writing something to go with it. If you like this, you should go look at all her art; it's really fantastic!  
> This is un-beta'd and not Brit-picked, so I apologize for any mistakes. Please feel free to leave a comment pointing any out, giving any advise in general, or just to say 'hi.' Thanks, and enjoy!

 Q didn’t get many visitors who didn’t want something from him. People came to him for tech or Intel, but always wanting something; he never got a casual visitor. He was used to it; he wasn’t a particularly social person anyway. The solitude suited him; it allowed him to get his work done in peace.

So when the door slid open late one night – long after everyone else had gone home – Q was understandably surprised, and more than a little annoyed. He was trying to work – M was demanding a full Intel review by tomorrow and he had hours of work left to do – who was this person still hanging around with the nerve to demand something from him?

A gun and cell phone clattered onto the desk to Q’s right, and he recognized them as his work. He’d released them to 007 – Bond – three weeks ago. The phone was battered and the screen was cracked, but it was whole and looked functional. The gun had what looked like dried blood on the barrel.

He turned and looked at the man himself; he was in little better condition than his tools. A clean bandage covered his left temple and smaller pieces of tape wrapped several of his fingers. He looked tired and worn, his face blank and his eyes haunted. Field agents always seemed to look that way these days, Q thought, tearing his eyes away from Bond and scooping up the discarded tech.

“I thought you were getting back tomorrow sometime?” Q stood and walked to a wall of locked containers. He punched in the call code and then password to the appropriate boxes. 

“Got back early. Wanted to get this over with so I could sleep in tomorrow.” Bond’s voice was slightly hoarse, as if he’d spent a lot of time yelling. Or screaming, a more morbid part of Q’s brain supplied.

He set the phone in one container – he’d run a diagnostic tomorrow and schedule the necessary repairs – and the gun in another. It was not his job to clean the weapon, thankfully. He turned back around, expecting to see Bond’s retreating back but the man just stood there, watching him.

Q returned to his computer to log the returned tech. “What else do you need, 007?” He asked as he worked, voice resigned and tired.

“I brought you something.” Bond said, voice matter-of-fact.

Q frowned, incredulous, and twisted in his seat to look at Bond over his shoulder.

The man held out his hand, and Q could see a thin, black stick of plastic. Upon closer inspection, the quartermaster could see there was dried blood on this device as well.

"It's a flash drive." Bond explained, and Q nodded dumbly. Didn't Bond know he had more than enough flash drives?

"With the blood of our enemy on it." Bond finished, and gestured for the quartermaster to take it. Q reached out a hand and grabbed onto the cool plastic, some of the dried blood flaking off under his touch. He was speechless for an entirely different reason now. 

Bond stayed for a moment or two more, watching Q, who just stared at the flash drive, mind utterly barren of anything to say.

"Good night, Q." Bond finally said, voice softer and more alive than before, then turned and left. His footsteps echoed around the silent room.

"Thank you." Q blurted out before he could stop himself. He didn't turn around, but he could hear Bond's footsteps falter slightly, before carrying the agent out the door.

And if, the next morning, M wondered why the flash drive Q used for his presentation had dried blood on it, or why Bond looked so please about that fact when someone told him, he didn't say anything.

He didn't want to know.


End file.
